


Operation Sweet Dreams

by FutureHeart



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Headcanon, Insomnia, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureHeart/pseuds/FutureHeart
Summary: Virgil has never slept. Logan, Patton and Roman set out to change that.AKA 5 Times The Sides Almost got Virgil to Sleep (and one time they actually did)(A 5+1 Fic in which Virgil does not need to sleep).
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Everyone, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Platonic LAMP
Comments: 49
Kudos: 205





	1. 0 - Look Alive, Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 0 - In which Virgil does not need to sleep  
> ~  
> Heyo! I'll admit this one will likely be one of the lengthiest chapters, sorry about that! I honestly don't know how it ended up so long. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Virgil didn’t need to sleep. Or at least, as far as he knew he didn’t. After all, the anxious side had gone all these years without a single moment of it, and no obvious consequences had ever come of it.

He had never gotten the chance to mention this fact to the other light sides- but it felt nice to think of himself as one of them without any doubt creeping into his brain anymore. He found plenty of ways to fill the quiet hours of the night in the comfort of his own room. If anything, it was a nice stretch of time to himself. Virgil felt little difference regarding the time of day at this point. 3 am always felt as normal as ever.

Except for right now. Because Virgil’s room was getting stuffy, a pang of hunger began gnawing in his stomach, and a comfortable position to scroll through Tumblr was currently eluding him.

He turned around in bed once more, a grumble of frustration escaping him. He usually avoided leaving his room during the night to avoid accidently waking up or running into one of the other sides, but the sheer boredom and discomfort in Virgil’s bones made for a growing temptation to escape.

The side half-heartedly picked up his phone for the umpteenth time that night in hopes that a single notification will give him a reason to stay in bed. As he was met with nothing but an empty lock screen, Virgil accepted defeat with an overdramatic moan before flopping back into his pillows. 

Virgil felt relatively confident in saying there was literally nothing better to do. He yanked his phone off the charge cord and dragged himself out of his weighted blankets, all the while convincing himself he’d settle back in his room before too long.

Thankfully, his door opened without the usual creak. Virgil still slipped through his door as swiftly as he could. The hallway lights were on, and silence hung in the air. Even after all this time, the nights felt odd as a stretch of time without the usual constant bickering, yelling, and tv-shows turned up way too loud, courtesy of those he shared Thomas’s brain with.

The sleepless boy took it as a good sign that as he passed his friend’s rooms, he noticed no light coming out from underneath their doors. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Virgil continued to soundlessly shuffle past his brain-mates’ rooms and made his way into the kitchen. As soon as he flipped the lights on, a sweet sense of comfort washed over him. After being holed up in his room for a bit too long, the familiar open space of the kitchen felt like heaven.

While Logan wasn’t there to scold him, Virgil took the liberty of hoisting himself onto the kitchen counter. What could he say? It was a nice spot, and he could easily watch over the entirety of both the kitchen and living room at once. Y’know, in case anything happened.

The boy let his thoughts settle for a moment, leaving the abiding anxious thoughts behind in favor of debating what to eat. When he noticed he’d been absent-mindedly chewing on his nails, he considered retrieving his fidget cube from his room, but decided against it. Virgil unraveled his earbuds to distract himself with his phone instead. With his neck craned down towards his device, Virgil thought that if Logan didn’t reprimand him for sitting on the counter, he definitely would for his god-awful posture.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Patton stifled yet another yawn as he tied his cat-onesie around his shoulders. He shook his head to clear his blurry eyes as he stumbled into the hallway. The moral side had set an early alarm to cook breakfast with Logan, who for some reason still insisted on consistently waking up at the crack of dawn every morning.

At the same time, Logan emerged from his own room, notably looking a whole lot more put together. “Good morning, Patton. I’m impressed you didn’t sleep through your alarm.” He cast a gentle grin towards the tired side as he adjusted his tie. Patton simply responded with a feeble hum, not quite awake enough yet to respond.

Logan turned and started down the hallway, leaving Patton to shuffle across the carpet behind him. After a quick glimpse at his phone, the moral side internally groaned with the knowledge that it was currently 6 am. He was just about to pull his hood over his head and muster a complaint about the time when he nearly rammed into Logan’s back.

The logical side had suddenly stopped near the doorway, and it was only when Patton slunk to stand next to him that he saw why.

“The kitchen light is on…” Logan wondered out loud, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

Patton rubbed his eyes in another attempt to fully wake up, “Did one of us forget to turn it off?”

“No, I was the last one to leave last night, and I very clearly remember turning the light off.”

Before Patton could open his mouth to respond, a sudden noise from the kitchen sent both of the boy’s heads snapping towards the origin of the sound.

Now, it could have just been his half-awake brain playing tricks on him, but Patton could have sworn what they just heard was laughter, a suppressed giggle if anything.

The moral side turned to scan Logan’s face to see his eyebrows scrunched and lips pursed. Despite his obvious confusion, the logical side fixed his tie once more and muttered a quick “Who else would possibly be up at this time?” before walking coolly into the kitchen, Patton right behind him.

“Virgil?” The younger side was sitting atop the counter, unhealthily hunched over the phone that he held in one hand, while his other was in the possession of a half-eaten waffle. He had his lavender earbuds in, and a genuine smile that made his cheeks swell. At the sound of his name, said anxious side tugged his earbuds out. His grin fell slightly. He slid off the countertop, pretending that his seat there was the reason for the vaguely disappointed look on Logan’s face, and his socks nearly slipped on the tile.

“How long have you been awake, Virgil?” Logan asked with his usual sober tone, “I highly doubt you have gotten a sufficient amount of sleep, you should not be up this early.”

Patton aimlessly toyed with the sleeves of his onesie, “Personally, I don’t think any of us should be up this early!” He admitted with a sweet-sounding chuckle.

“Agreed.” A different voice grumbled, startling both Patton and Logan for the second time this morning. Turning around revealed a _very_ tired looking Roman, who’s both hair and maroon shirt were miserably tousled from sleep. The prince must have just woken up moments ago.

When he met the confused stares pointed at him, Roman loudly declared “What? How could I deny the smell of waffles?” As tired as he looked, Roman’s flamboyance inevitably made Virgil’s smile return. The anxious side slid a plated waffle towards him. With that, the prince dramatically smoothed out his shirt and pushed his way past the spectacle-wearing duo with hunger driven determination. Logan couldn’t help but reconsider waking up so early every day.

While the other three quickly took up to chattering, the logical side stood dumbfounded. As an avid fan of planning and routine, Logan felt his heart clench at the sudden deviation from the mornings’ original plans

After a moment, Logan was able to clear his head enough grab his friend’s attention. “Would you all mind taking a seat? It would appear we no longer have to cook breakfast, seeing as half of us have already began eating. But I am still curious as to why you’re already awake, Virgil.” He stated, already pulling out one of the dining chairs for himself.

His fellow sides followed suit. As he sat down, Virgil’s face started to morph into a look of indisputable worry.

Logan took note of this. He quickly made a mental note to soften his tone as much as possible, as to not make Virgil feel like he was in trouble. Adjusting his glasses again, he started “Virgil, as I’m very sure you already know, studies show that lack of sleep is heavily related to higher levels of anxiety. Thomas has plans for an outing with his friends later today. Heightened anxiety today in particular would surely detriment Thomas’ enjoyment. Do you mind telling me why you are up this early? You seem to have been awake for a while.”

He braved a slight pang of sadness as he noticed that Virgil wouldn’t meet his eyes. The anxious side simply bit his thumb and shrugged. “I’m always awake this early…”

Logan bit back doubting him out loud. Fortunately, Patton interjected, “How come? How much sleep do you get at night, bud?”

They didn’t know why at the time, but the question made Virgil squirm.

The trait felt his shoulders stiffen. He bit a little too hard onto his finger and started to wish he had grabbed his fidget cube earlier. Something in the anxious side’s head told him that if he had gone back to his room for it, he wouldn’t have to be in this nerve-wracking conversation. But why was he nervous at all anyway? He chalked it up to still getting used to the attention and concern of his new family. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder how the topic hadn’t come up before.

He pulled his thumb away from his mouth in favor of drumming on the table, something less destructive Patton had suggested. “Oh, um. I don’t sleep.” Virgil said blandly.

Virgil was expecting long awkward silence, so he jumped in his seat when both Patton and Logan jolted into jumbled exclamations.

“What? Don’t you know how unhealthy that is?” The logical side’s fists impulsively gripped the tablecloth. His face was all scrunched up. “Why would you intentionally cause Thomas’s anxiety to spike?” He asked, and this made Virgil’s stomach drop. They always seemed to forget that he wasn’t the _cause_ of Thomas’s anxiety. He _was_ Thomas’s anxiety, a personified version of the chemical imbalance in their host’s brain.

Patton clutched his arms to his side, creating folds in his polo. “Kiddo! Why didn’t you come to one of us? Is it nightmares? Oh goodness, how did we not notice before?” He rambled on, spiraling into several different conclusions before anybody could stop him.

Logan realized that he had risen out of his seat. With a deep sigh, he slowly sat back down. “Virgil, it is imperative that you take care of yourself. Not only is our well-being crucial to Thomas’s functioning, but,” He paused. “We care about you.”

Just as Virgil’s joints started to ache from trying to shrink in on himself, Roman saved him.

The princely side raised his voice just loud enough to catch the other’s attention. His face revealed all sorts of concern. “Hold your horses, gentleman! Let us not fall victim to jumping to conclusions!” He declared, casting a paternal glare that Patton would be proud of towards him and Logan. Roman’s focus then shifted to the hunched-up figure sitting next to him. “Virgil, do you think you could perhaps explain what you mean? I’m not quite sure we understand.” He spoke gently. Patton nodded along frantically.

Despite the tingling and burning heat appearing on his skin, the anxious side swallowed hard and began to force the words out of his mouth. “Look, it’s not like I’m always pulling all-nighters- well, actually I am, but,” His mouth felt dry from the stress of being put on the spot. “It’s not what you think. I don’t stay up on purpose- actually, wait. That’s not entirely true,” The boy squirmed, knowing he was just digging himself into a hole. He pushed his palms into his eyes and failed to hold back a groan of frustration.

“Take your time, Vee.” He looked up to see Roman casting his warm, encouraging smile right into the anxious trait’s soul. He blinked, and let his thoughts calm, just a bit, from the comforting look.

Virgil shifted in his seat and attempted to relax his clenched shoulders. “I don’t sleep,” He breathed. “Like, I physically do not need to. I’ve never slept, not once. So, yeah. That’s why I’m up this early, because I’m _always_ up this early.”

The awkward silence Virgil had been expecting finally settled over the kitchen like a suffocating fog. He felt his heart ache at the lack of conversation. The mind was not supposed to be a quiet place.

“Kiddo,” Patton was the one to break the silence. “That’s _awful_.” He uttered, distress lacing his every word.

Instead of the guilt that usually followed causing Patton to worry, this time Virgil couldn’t help but turn up his nose. Confusion took guilt’s place. Why did Patton sound so sad? As far as he could tell, sleep was just a larger than necessary chunk of time dedicated to doing pretty much nothing. He had heard his fair share of confusing, concerning, and straight up weird ‘dreams,’ whatever those were. On tougher mornings like today, Virgil was often asked if he had had a nightmare, which didn’t sound good at all. If the other sides obviously thought sleeping made him more upset, why would he do it? Sleep seemed like a total waste of time.

Before Virgil could launch into his theory of the Horribleness of Sleep™, Roman silenced him with a jabbing finger. “I know what you’re going to say, our dark and stormy knight! And let me assure you, sleep is incredible.” The creative side closed his eyes and melted into his chair. “There is absolutely nothing like collapsing into your bed after a long, long day and drifting into the world of dreams! You wake up feeling better than ever, it’s truly a wonderful thing.” Roman seriously looked like he was about to start drooling.

Logan cocked his head, ignoring Roman’s outburst completely. “Interesting… Tell me, don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I get tired,” Virgil retorted, and immediately regretted how harsh it came out. “I’ve never actually made it to falling asleep, though.” He added more gently. The logical side gave one last quiet hum before another bout of silence fell.

Past Roman still staring happily into the distance and Patton still searching for something to say, Virgil watched Logan visibly trying to work through the new information. They could all practically hear the cogs turning in his brain.

Virgil leaned low over the table, trying to catch Logan’s eye. With his most soothing voice, he tried to reassure him, “Think about it, Lo. It makes sense.” Though his eyes were still glazed with concentration, Logan met the sleepless boy’s gaze. He’d never admit it, but the anxious side’s faint smile helped put his mind at ease. Virgil continued.

“You’re the one who always says a normal sleep schedule is one of the most important parts of being healthy. Let’s face it, you tend to overwork yourself,” Logan tried to interrupt, but Virgil simply shook his head before he could. “but just like the body, the mind can only take so much until it physically needs to take a break and recover. That’s why we always find you asleep on your desk after a big project. Don’t give me that face, how do you think you always wake up back in your own bed?” Logan had to really fight to bite back his chuckle.

Patton was still evidently upset, his hands fidgeting with his onesie’s sleeves while his lips twitched, wanting to find any words that could help. When Virgil shifted his focus to said moral side, he didn’t hesitate in propping his elbow up on the table and sliding his hand into Patton’s. “We all know how Logan stresses mental health too, of course. People get emotionally overwhelmed; it happens all the time. When that happens, everyone benefits from taking some time to relax and work out the issues, whether that be in a big or small way.”

Patton gave a toothy grin, “That’s exactly why we do Sanders Sides!”

Virgil smiled back at him before looking to Roman, who had finally escaped his daze. “Roman _obviously_ needs to sleep, nobody can churn out masterpiece after masterpiece. Inspiration needs to strike first. It would make sense that Thomas’s creativity needs a rest, everyone has to let the creative spark recharge.”

The anxious side’s shoulders slumped with a sigh. He reluctantly gestured to himself with his free hand and fixed his eyes somewhere other than the faces of his friends. “But me? If anything, I keep Thomas up at night. Like Logan’s said before, I’m instilled in humans as a permanent, imbedded reflex. Why _would_ I need to sleep?”

If Patton had heard any of the last few sentences, he didn’t acknowledge them one bit. Instead, he just squeezed Virgil’s hand tighter and began bouncing on his heels, practically vibrating with excitement. “Well that just means we’ll have to find a way to get you to sleep! Tonight calls for a sleepover! Let operation Get Virgil To Sleep commence!”

Logan let out a quiet grumble. “That’s an awful operation name…”

“Well what do you suggest?”

Before Logan could even open his mouth, Roman flew out of his seat and slammed his hands on the table. As cutlery rattled on the surface, the creative side declared with a passionate gleam in his eyes, “Let operation Sweet Dreams commence!”

And thus, since no other protests of dissatisfaction were made, operation Sweet Dreams commenced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent quite a lot of time and effort into just this first chapter, and I plan and putting just as much effort into the remaining six. Any comments, whether they are suggestions, ideas, critiques (just ask first) are all highly encouraged, as I need the motivation to finish this fanfic. Stay cool!  
> \- Kenna


	2. 1 - Let's Kill Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1 - In which sleepovers are severely counterproductive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I really don't know how to make short chapters, do I? I am so sorry. I am literally just making editing more mentally painful for myself, and yet I keep coming dangerously close to 3000 words. Oops.  
> ~  
> Anyway, I thought I'd mention that I feel like posting a second chapter is a hundred times more nerve-wracking than posting a first chapter. Because now, like, I've got a reputation to maintain! So with full sincerity, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it!

Patton snuggled closer into his blanket and sunk deeper into his cozy position on the couch. He smiled to himself as he watched Logan quietly argue with the DVD player. After enough nagging, Patton had convinced Virgil to choose what movie they’d watch, instead of letting the anxious side deflect and make someone else choose the film like usual. The sleepless boy decided on Tangled, which Roman was delighted to hear.

Virgil sat on the floor amongst the many, many blankets and pillows Patton had gathered for the sleepover. “Are you sure you don’t want to come sit on the couch, kiddo?” The older side slid a hand out of his blanket and patted the empty couch cushion beside him.

The darker side twisted around, stifling a laugh. He smiled but shook his head. “Are you kidding Patton? Every pillow and blanket in the mindscape is here on the carpet. The floor is probably more comfortable than the couch!”

A sheepish grin came across Patton’s face. “Well, we can’t all fit on the couch. One of us will have to sleep on the floor, and I wanted to make sure whoever it was would be comfy!”

“Surely I will not be sleeping on the floor, correct?” Roman came striding into the living room, outfitted in his Beauty & The Beast onesie and holding a giant bowl of popcorn. Logan swallowed the impulse to remind the prince that eating before bed was inadvisable. He moved his attention towards finding the remote instead.

Roman settled in next to Patton, pulling some of the blanket onto his own lap. “Virgil must sleep on the couch with me, of course. I will not let our storm cloud’s first time experiencing sleep be on the miserable ground!”

“It’s pretty comfy to me…” Virgil muttered mostly to himself as he pulled his hood over his head.

“Well, I’m the sleepover host! That means I get the couch too, right?” Patton questioned hopefully, looking towards the others for an answer.

As the TV suddenly sprung to life, the enchanting music of Tangled started spewing from the speakers. Logan stood up, remote in hand. “I will take it upon myself to sleep on the floor.” Patton opened his mouth to argue, but Logan continued before he could voice his protest. “Don’t worry, Patton. You’ve supplied more than enough padding for me to be comfortable.” He assured the moral trait before taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. The logical side started the movie.

It wasn’t long until Virgil’s mind wandered into the endless stream of ‘what if’s’ that occupied his brain. He really did try to focus on the movie- Tangled was one of his favorites- but he just had so much doubt about this working. It took a while for Virgil to start accepting Patton’s invitations to movie nights, but by now he had attended plenty. Sleep still eluded him. But he couldn’t remember if he had even tried.

What if he didn’t manage to sleep tonight? The anxious boy tried to convince himself that it wasn’t unhealthy to ponder this, it would probably happen after all. Would Logan be disappointed in him? Will Roman be mad that he failed? Oh, Patton is going to be so sad. He didn’t want to make Patton sad. Virgil could practically feel his thoughts spiraling, his nails started pushing into his palms to gain some semblance of control, when Logan unintentionally saved him.

It hadn’t even been half an hour before, “I don’t get it. Why would Rapunzel want to leave the tower if it has everything she needs to survive, plus entertainment solely for her enjoyment? Surely, she would rather stay, where she is guaranteed to be safe.”

As his hand flew to his heart, Roman let out a disgusted gasp that was much louder than necessary. The prince’s mouth hung ajar, horribly and over dramatically offended by Logan’s simple observation. He stared at the logical side, his face choked with betrayal. “Maybe because she dreams of a better life, you heathen!” Roman playfully spat. Patton couldn’t help but notice the fanciful side casting a swift, mischievous glance towards the bowl of popcorn.

Before anyone could stop him, Roman’s mouth morphed into a maniacal smile, and in the blink of an eye a handful of popcorn was being launched directly at Logan…

The victim of the attack blinked slowly. One piece sat on the bridge of his glasses, and another was settled in his hair. A few stray kernels lay scattered across the couch and floor. The atmosphere dropped, the feeling of impending doom in every one of their hearts foreshadowed the battle that was about to commence.

With only a moment’s more hesitation and a new gleaming smile, Logan snatched the popcorn that sat atop his glasses and hurled it back at Roman. He hoped all those mathematic textbooks had somehow improved his aim.

Roman felt his life flash before his eyes as the snack was suddenly rapidly approaching his face. He narrowly swerved out of the way, smooshing himself against the back of the couch. As impressive as the dodge was, he had left Patton defenseless, and the moral side let out a surprised squeak as he got a piece of popcorn to the face.

Loud, breathless laughter erupted from an exasperated Roman. The prince squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his hands around his stomach, squealing with delight and the sick self-satisfaction of causing Patton’s assault. Logan’s hands flew to his face. His wide eyes complimented his guilt-ridden expression. Still, the logical side could feel giggles blooming in his own chest.

Now, it was Patton’s turn to sport a wicked grin. He didn’t waste a single moment in shoving his hands in the bowl for two handfuls of ammo. “Oh, you picked the _wrong_ dad to mess with, kiddos!”

Every ounce of joy visibly drained from Roman, pure terror replacing it. Roman instantly found himself scrambling on top of the couch in hopes of escaping the emotional trait’s wrath. Logan, also having become aware of the danger, swiftly turned and vaulted himself up and over the couch, almost losing his glasses in the process.

Patton lunged forward; his sights set on Logan. He recklessly ran, twisting around the furniture like a madman. The popcorn he was clutching fell out of his hands and began to trail behind him.

“Come on, guys. Don’t waste it all, we need something to eat.” The weak, half-hearted complaint came from Virgil, who still sat watching the movie. He reached behind him and blindly grabbed a handful of popcorn from the abandoned bowl to snack on before the rest was used for war-purposes. The movie was still relatively audible over the tortured screams and twisted laughter coming from behind the couch.

Quietly behind him, Roman was clumsily climbing back down onto the seat cushions. The boy could only hope that Patton would be satisfied with defeating Logan and not come back for him next. But the emotional trait would surely want revenge… He was just about to arm himself with more ammo, when- in his crazed, war-torn state of mind- Roman let a sinister idea slip into his head. Hey, war makes people do some crazy stuff.

Virgil still sat content and oblivious, his eyes glued to the television. But Roman had long since abandoned his sympathy.

A sudden rough tug on Virgil’s sweatshirt nearly sent his heart out of his chest. He wobbled just a bit as the hand on his hood kept pulling backwards. Virgil’s hands flailed hopelessly for something to grab onto. Roman seized the bowl of popcorn. The heat of battle had made his malicious intent swell, it was kill or be killed now.

The prince secured his hold on Virgil’s clothes one last time, squeezing to make sure he had a grip on his shirt. With no mercy left to give, Roman dumped the bowl of popcorn down Virgil’s back.

~ ~ ~

It was one in the morning. Virgil had watched Tangled three times and spent who knows how long staring at the title screen. Staring at that stupid menu screen as its stupid theme tune played annoyingly on repeat. It was just a reminder of how much time he was spending awake, at least until he impulsively hit the play button again, if only to make the music stop.

Logan fell asleep hours ago. The logical side lay next to him, serenely intertwined with the copious amounts of blankets. Virgil was surprised to feel his heart ache in jealousy of how easily he was able to fall asleep. He tried to reason with himself, which he liked to think Logan would be proud of. Logan had kept himself on a strict and healthy sleeping schedule for _years_ now, Virgil couldn’t expect falling asleep to be so simple on his first try. Well…his first _active_ try.

The anxious side still hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. He had promised a barely conscious Patton that he’d come up to join them on the couch as soon as he got tired, but that seemed so long ago now. Both Patton and Roman had promptly passed out after the credits rolled for the first time. He was still wide awake. Bored and frustrated out of his mind, yes, but also awake.

Virgil let his head fall back onto the couch to stare absently at the ceiling. Right next to his face, Roman snored noisily. It all was starting to feel like a taunt. The music, the movie, the stupid glowing digital clock on the DVR, time itself was mocking him.

Maybe if he just squeezed his eyes tight enough, just stop thinking for _one_ second, he could send himself to sleep by sheer willpower.

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way it shuddered. Closing his eyes, he told himself _Thomas is asleep, everything is perfectly fine._ While the sleeping bodies around him lay still and relaxed, Virgil screwed his eyes tighter. _There is no stress or anxiety to process, all my work is done for the day._ He begged his brain to just shut down, praying for that distant thing they called unconsciousness. _Come on, just go to sleep already._

The voice in his head was filled with venom, venom that was made of his own irritation. Virgil was fed up with his own inability to just be normal. Why did this have to be so hard? The other sides were spending a whole night just to try and help him, and here he sat wasting every second of it. Just as he felt the last of his composure start to break, Virgil mentally cried out to himself. _Why won’t you just sleep?_

It was then that Virgil felt any chance of unconsciousness slip right through his fingers.

It was decided. For tonight, he gave up.

~ ~ ~

Logan’s internal clock woke him up at roughly quarter to six, just like it always does. It only took him a moment to remember where he was. He almost hesitated getting up off the floor, the blankets that encased him were more than cozy, but there were more important things to be done.

After dragging himself into a sitting position and a few moments of fumbling for his glasses, he turned to see the messy, uncomfortable-looking cuddle pile that had formed on the couch. Both blankets and limbs had somehow gotten themselves thoroughly tangled into an indiscernible… _thing_ overnight. Logan couldn’t help but notice how a certain side was missing from the heap. Even so, he had a feeling that he already knew where said anxious side was.

Sure enough, for the second morning in a row, Logan found Virgil in the kitchen.

Virgil sat cross-legged at the table with his lavender earbuds in once again. Across the table’s surface was quite a large puzzle, just barely halfway done. It seemed to be 1000 pieces of bright and starry galactic sky. The sleepless boy seemed almost tranquil with the way he simply sat quietly and scanned the endless sea of puzzle pieces. Logan took a seat across from him.

Neither of them spoke at first, though Logan definitely caught Virgil casting him a fleeting glance. For just a fraction of a second, the anxious boy’s eyes flitted up to meet his own before they darted back down to stare holes into the mahogany wood. The silence that fell between the two walked a very fine line between peaceful and tense.

Logan suddenly leaned across the table and grabbed a puzzle piece laying next to Virgil’s hand. Virgil watched him snap it perfectly into place on the first try.

The boy yanked out his earbuds and began to methodically wind the wires around his fingers. Virgil made a sad attempt to clear his throat. “Morning, Logan.” Though he managed to make his voice seem calm, Virgil could tell his anxiety was not well hidden.

“Good morning, Virgil.” With the way that Logan impassively stared at him while speaking, Virgil struggled to not shrink away from the attention. The logical side continued, “Why are you awake?” he asked, his signature blunt tone really shining through.

He knew this question was coming- As a matter of fact, Virgil had been agonizing over it ever since he gave up for the night- yet he still was vastly unprepared with an answer… However, in front of him sat Logan, who was admittedly not exactly an expert regarding emotions. Virgil was quick to realize that any disappointment he saw in the question was probably imagined. More than likely, Logan was legitimately curious as to why he hadn’t slept. The anxious side felt a little better after rationalizing this, if not proud of himself for not immediately jumping to a conclusion.

Virgil brought himself to look Logan in the eyes. Eye contact wasn’t really something either of them were proficient at; Virgil could never seem to maintain it enough to not concern his family, while Logan always gave too much. Yet, this time it was strangely comforting. The logical side always made things feel a little more normal.

“I couldn’t sleep. Big surprise, I know,” He said easily, and made sure to continue before Logan could needlessly call out his sarcasm. “I _tried_ to sleep; I really did. But I just wasn’t tired, and the menu screen’s music was playing on repeat, it was driving me insane. And then I’d click the movie again, but every scene would just remind me of how much time was passing. I just wanted to sleep, you guys wasted a whole night just to try and help me, but I was just getting so frustrated and… I just couldn’t sleep.” Virgil finished lamely. He fidgeted with another puzzle piece to distract himself from the ever-growing guilt.

As physically painful as it was to maintain eye contact, it was worth it to watch the grin grow across Logan’s face. “I see. Now we can proceed to experiment with more solutions more effectively, thank you. I will take note of what you said.” He stated, his voice nearly brimming with pleasant satisfaction. His focus was quickly pulled back into the puzzle.

Virgil pursed his lips. Sure, he was more than relieved at how calmly Logan had responded to his excuses, but something still nagged at the back of his brain. His gaze wandered into the unfinished galactic landscape on the table. “Are you guys sure you want to do this? To help me sleep?”

Another snap, another piece completed. Logan looked up, his eyebrows arching questioningly. “Of course. Virgil, it sounds like you are much more hesitant to go forward with,” The logical side rolled his eyes with a grumble. “Operation Sweet Dreams than we are. Why is that?”

The anxious side restlessly ran a hand through his hair. “I might not even be _able_ to sleep…I’m not even so sure I want to. You guys didn’t even ask.”

Logan leaned down to try and meet Virgil’s face again. “But just this morning you cleverly detailed the reasons why sleep is good for each of us? You watched Roman nearly drool at the mere thought of it. Why would you not want to sleep?”

This was excruciating. If only Logan knew how many hours he had spent trying to answer that question. Virgil had found _so_ many reasons, and nearly all of them were refutable. Still, there remained one that he just couldn’t overlook.

His face had scrunched up and his eyes were now swirling dark pools of worry. With an achingly quiet whisper, he answered. “What if something happens?”

Logan paused. He adjusted his glasses for another second to carefully choose his words. “Has anything distressing happened overnight in the past?” Virgil shook his head.

The logical side sat back up straight. “Then rest assured,” He started, his voice as firm as it was cool, “We will awake you if anything significant happens. Seeing how resistant you are to sleep, I do not believe we will have to worry about that situation happening any time soon. We have plenty of time to think of ways around your fear of missing something important. Does that soothe you at all?” After a much too long-lasting moment, Virgil finally nodded his head.

Logan let a quiet sigh escape his chest. “Now, are you going to help with the puzzle? We need to finish before breakfast is ready,” He asked, snapping another piece into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so quick thing about updates: When can you expect them to be out? I have NO clue. On one hand, school is starting up again the day after this was posted, so new chapters might get up a bit slower. On the other hand, my new years resolution has been to write at least 100 words every day, and honestly? I've been doing pretty fantastic at it so far, and that will speed up/motivate me more for updates! So, I really can't say how regularly new chapters will be coming out, but please rest assured, I am extremely determined to finish this! So fear not, this *will* be completed. I won't forgive myself if I drop it.  
> Also, it is important to me for you to know that this entire chapter in my word document was just labeled "woo we're back at it Chapter 2" in all caps, italicized and underlined.  
> Remember comments are very much appreciated and encouraged.  
> Stay cool! -Kenna


	3. 2 - No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 - In which exhaustion isn't what it used to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead! Y'know I have been working on this, it took a while because the plot was...difficult and the amount of internal monologue and I just kept getting stuck. But after all of this, i'm actually decently happy with how it came out. I have a beta reader now, so this should be more polished than the previous chapters!  
> I also think it is important for me to say that, when starting this fic, I told myself "Kenna. No chapters in this story are going to be more than 3k words." And uhhhh this is about 3400 oops. Guess it be like that sometimes.

Honestly, Virgil was glad for the chatter circulating the dining table. Half-chewed pancakes garbled the way Roman laughed and babbled too loudly. But at least it wasn’t quiet, because if Virgil hadn’t hated silence before, he sure did now. With the amount of times a tense lack of conversation had settled in over the past few days, the sleepless boy had started _really_ wishing he had never left his bedroom that night.

That had been a week ago. The other sides were still far from giving up the daily brainstorms that Virgil himself was seldom present for- but things had settled down a bit. All the fleeting pitiful glances and dumb-idea-icebreakers had finally started easing up in their frequency. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

Virgil quietly watched Patton scarf down his breakfast like the End was nigh. It truly was a miracle how he didn’t choke, seeing how the moral side refused to waste a single crumb in his hunger-driven frenzy. The anxious trait waited for Logan’s near-daily reminder for Patton to slow down his eating, yet the mellow demand never came.

Logan hadn’t even touched his food. Steam was still rising up off his plate in slow warm waves. The boy had his chin propped up on rigid fists and his eyes vacantly fixed on something unknown. But his grip hadn’t gone white and his jaw was far from clenched, so Virgil wasn’t all that worried. This was the good kind of staring into space.

Even when Patton nearly inhaled a chocolate chip, Roman was instead the one who lurched forward to rub circles on his back. Virgil let an idle swig of too-bitter orange juice wash over his tongue. In that moment, life felt okay again.

A sharp inhale finally signaled the end of Logan’s contemplation a few minutes later. An idea had clearly been struck, and his hands suddenly began scrambling for his leather-bound notebook. He hastily flipped it open to a fresh blank page before his renewed focus quickly fell on the insomniac sitting next to him. “Virgil,” The anxious side watched Logan grab a pen from behind his ear that he hadn’t even noticed before. “What usually makes you tired?”

Virgil stabbed at his eggs with a fork. The metal shrieked against the plate for added emphasis. “Panic attacks.” He didn’t even bother questioning Logan’s abruptness.

“Other than that.”

“Come on!” The sleepless side whined as he dropped his head back onto the rim of his chair. An exaggerated sigh teeming with frustration rang throughout the dining room. “It’s true though!” Not everyone could handle the truth, apparently, because Logan wouldn’t take it for an answer.

“It’s…stupid.” Virgil shook his head, still staring up at the dusty ceiling. “But anything that’s _mentally_ stimulating always works. I’m always drained after filming, without fail. It’s just things like strategy games or word searches, and puzzles that always seem to do the trick.” Looking straight up unfortunately didn’t stop the other sides from noticing the embarrassed blush creeping up Virgil’s neck.

Puzzles. Was the activity’s tiring quality the reason Logan had found Virgil working on one post-sleepover? He couldn’t help but wonder.

Patton piped up, “I heard games!” The boy beamed, his wide grin displaying all his chocolate-stained teeth. “When are we playing?”

Virgil eventually tore his gaze away from the cobwebs that hung high above him. He could practically feel Logan’s uncertainty crawling on his skin. The logical side was radiating hesitation.

“Would you _like_ to participate in a game?” The inquisitive trait asked, testing his every word at an agonizing pace.

The anxious side paused to think. Why did it seem like Logan was treating him like a ticking time bomb all the sudden? (Whether Virgil hated or appreciated this, he wasn’t quite sure yet.) Since when did the personification of Logic do emotions? His hands tugged at loose threads in his jeans. “Sure, couldn’t hurt to try.” Virgil shrugged. If Logan was putting in some effort to empathize, the _least_ he could do was play along.

He slid a slice of strawberry onto his fork even though it didn’t look appetizing. “Not right now, obviously.” It tasted way too tart.

Logan closed his notebook, not having written down a word. “Of course. Going to sleep this early in the day would be insensible,” He gave a blunt nod that was mostly for his own reassurance. “Later, then.”

~ ~ ~

“Oh, would you look at that? Another king!” If not for having shared a mindscape with Roman for the past 30 years, the others might not have noticed the slyness dripping from the prince’s every word. “Luck must really be on my side today, huh?” He purred innocently as he swapped out his last card.

Patton had _insisted_ on playing Garbage, a simple card game he hoped everyone could enjoy. The moral side had even summoned an old Christmas gift, a deck of cards with dogs on every slip of stiff paper. But even he couldn’t stop suspicion from swirling in his stomach as he watched Roman nearly beg to shuffle the cards for the third round in a row. The prince didn’t seem to notice the suspicious glares being sent his way. It was either that or he just didn’t care, which was equally likely.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Virgil to not gnaw on his fingertips while the cards were being dealt. Was it selfish to feel as bored as he was? After all, neither the rigged rounds of Garbage nor his own nervous habits were bringing back that long-forgotten feeling. Tiredness. He chewed a little too harshly on the inside of his cheek.

“Virgil?” The question left Patton’s mouth careful and hushed. The anxious boy’s eyes were uncharacteristically unfocused and glassy, his cards still sitting untouched in a cluttered pile before him. “It’s your turn, bud.” 

Patton could almost see it: His dark strange son would snap out of his daze. He’d mutter a quick apology under his breath with a shake of his head before fixing his cards and drawing from the deck. Key word being _almost,_ because the moral side nearly deflated as he watched Virgil, his eyes no clearer than before, carelessly draw a card.

A queen. Useless. Virgil felt numb. Why couldn’t he have just stayed in his room that night? If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting here trying and failing to appear occupied, interested. Then he wouldn’t have to constantly be letting his family _down_ when he failed to do a simple bodily function. He wished he could tear at his hair without his brain-mates scolding him, he wasn’t sure he could take that right now. This wasn’t tiring, or even _fun._

~ ~ ~

“I believe that Roman is cheating.” The accusation was out of the blue, and gave Virgil’s mind a warm welcome back to earth. Rounds had come and gone in his haze, but thanks to six articulate words, everything had screeched to a halt. As the anxious side watched Roman start to fumble and choke on his words, Virgil was sure of it. Logan was a lifesaver. 

“I-I would never! How dare you even think that?” Roman actually _sputtered._ His back quickly straightened out as he crossed his arms around his chest, an obvious defensive maneuver. 

Logan didn’t look amused. He started with a sharp inhale, “While possible, the likelihood of any one player receiving as many usable cards as you have is...improbable, to say the least.” Another signature quick fix of his glasses. “It doesn’t help your case to know that I've observed you shuffling the deck in the same distinct pattern every time you’ve done it. I must say, your sportsmanship doesn't seem all that fit for a prince.”

Roman bristled with defiance against the logical side’s challenging glare. “Well if you’re so smart, then tell me. What are the odds of you not being such a _sore loser?_ ” Logan’s shoulders slumped; a sliver of dismay had broken through his ever-impartial expression. Sour tasting regret immediately washed over Roman’s tongue. The prince quickly buried all his quips in the back of his mind.

A headache began to bloom as Virgil continued to grate his teeth. The dynamic was suddenly all wrong now- and to him, it was pretty obvious who’s fault _that_ was.

How ironic. By trying to help him, more problems were arising. The insomniac’s own suffocating liability wouldn’t let him turn away from the sight of Roman and Logan, locked in a silent standoff, biting their tongues. All because of him and a stupid card game he knew he should have refused. 

Stupid card games. The way Roman’s fingers started impatiently tapping on his sleeves made his stomach churn. Stupid funny livestreams, keeping him distracted until he found himself confronted by tired sides in a cold kitchen that still smelled like waffles. Virgil felt dizzy knowing he was responsible for Logan’s sullen frown. Stupid inability to sleep. Guilt pumped through his blood like lead. Stupid, stupid Virgil.

When a heavily disappointed whine from across the table was heard, any trace of tension suddenly evaporated. Patton’s eyes were sunken behind his glasses while his chin was propped lamely on the wood of the table. “This isn't working, is it?” The moral side’s voice was soft, and undeniably dejected.

Virgil’s heart skipped a beat from the unexpected spotlight. Admittedly, he missed being able to nervously gnaw on his nails without consequence. His toes squirmed in his doodle-covered converse instead. “No,” The words came out strained, but luckily not distorted. “No it's not.” He slipped in a muffled apology for Logan’s attempt to help as well.

At first, Virgil thought the logical side’s tense nod and quiet hum meant it was time to give up for the day. Instead, Logan stood up, deck of cards in hand. “I feared that would be the case. Fortunately, I have already thought of a surrogate activity.”

The kitchen lights suddenly dimmed and filled the space with new intensity. Logan’s hands began to expertly rearrange the cards, all of which shimmered in the room’s dull glow. “You see, the game of garbage, under normal circumstances-” Roman frowned at the jokingly annoyed glances sent his way. “Is a game of luck. The amount of mental power required to play is minimal, rendering it ineffective for trying to tire a person's mind.” 

The deck slammed on the table- dramatic effect at best. “That is why we are going to play Poker. Five card draw, to be exact. Unlike garbage, this is a game you can manipulate in your favor with mathematical probabilities and strategic thinking. Because Thomas knows how to play, I assume we all do as well?” He waited patiently until he saw three nods with varying degrees of hesitation. 

“Virgil,” The anxious side swiftly sat upright with Logan’s attention on him. “Please do your best to try and think about the probabilities and possible outcomes; a focused mindset is optimal for falling asleep in the near future. In order for me to trust that you are doing so, I am declaring that _if_ you win the majority of the games we play, control of the aux cord will belong to you for the next two weeks.”

Easy decision. If another awkward explanation for one more sleepless night was the price to pay for MCR carpool karaoke, so be it. Virgil tilted back in his chair and let an amused expression take shape. “You’ve got a deal.”

~~~

There was a problem. Virgil really did try to think about the probabilities, but he was never all that good at math- and to be fair, his thoughts surrounded something equally complicated. 

_Why wasn’t this working? For as long as he could remember, any kind of social interaction cost him every ounce of energy. But come to think of it- he had been surrounded by the sides all day, and he felt...normal. How long had it been like that? This uncommon sense of comfort, it left him wondering how he hadn’t noticed it before._

Patton won the first round- well, technically it was the second. The first round was cut short when it became apparent that the moral side thought they were playing Go Fish. And for an actor, Roman’s poker face was pretty poor. The side’s confidence was painfully obvious, but it didn’t matter in the end. His full set of spades couldn’t beat Patton’s full house.

_So what was different this time around? He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when the tide turned from exhausting to calming, from scarily unfamiliar into everyday routine, from dread that’s since become contentment- whatever you wanted to call it. But there had to be something, right?_

A little bit of luck brought Virgil to victory this time. A pair of tens already rested in his hands, and trading in his remaining cards gave him a third. Roman actually came right behind with two pairs. He even kept his demeanor steady this time! Virgil wasn't sure what to do when he caught Logan slipping him a proud smile, so he just kept his head down. 

_Something was definitely different. He knew this because for a horrifying moment, Virgil slipped back into a time where venturing outside his bedroom felt unsafe. When most of his time was spent shaking against his closed door and debating whether grabbing some snacks was worth the insults he was risking. When just getting a glass of water left him vulnerable to cold stares that made him feel sick to his empty stomach, so he left his doorknob unturned and went thirsty instead._

The odds of getting a royal flush in poker were about one in six and a half million, information that left Roman heartbroken. He almost gave up when Logan snapped down an impressive set of four jacks. But still, that princely ego of his was enough to convince him that he would definitely win if he just played _one_ more round. That delusion was in vain, unfortunately.

 _But...that doesn't happen anymore, does it? Stepping into the mindscape hadn’t induced dizzying anxiety and stomach flips in what felt like forever. Company wasn’t so bad anymore, and he wasn’t afraid to seek it out when need be. Even now, despite every drop of frustration and guilt the past week had produced, Virgil still looked on fondly as Patton lay_ down another winning set of cards.

For a side that originally thought they were playing Go Fish, Patton was pretty great at poker. Virgil’s hand was pretty much garbage, and even though trading in gifted him a miracle of a straight, it still couldn’t beat the moral side’s flush. All his cards were hearts, how fitting.

_So, all things considered... this probably wasn’t going to work._

More rounds passed in a quiet daze of spades and pairs. So when a heated struggle for control of the deck and one slip of the hand left playing cards strewn over both table and floor, Virgil took it as an opportunity. 

His hands met the table a little too loudly, but he had stood up already- too late to change his mind now. As the expectant faces of his friends gazed up at him, Virgil fought to swallow his fear and started, "I think I know why this isn't working."

Disappointed stares- he could feel them all over his skin, but seeing them would make him sick. So he watched his chewed-up fingers quiver against the table instead. Logan sucked in a tense breath, and suddenly Virgil felt his blood turn to heavy lead and icy regret. He kept his eyes down. What made him think this was a good idea?

It was Patton's turn to save him. Because when low, unsure words started spilling out of Logan’s mouth, “Are you certain? Surely it’s too early to tell, have you been doing what I-” he was the one to set a hand on the logical side’s shoulder. Just one warm look politely shut him up. The moral side turned to Virgil, and quickly racked his brain for ways to show support. He had to settle for a clumsy nod. 

By now, Virgil had already forged an apology he was ready to sit down and stutter, along with ideas on how to psychosomatically induce exhaustion. Maybe then he’d fall asleep; this whole mess could be forgotten, and everything would go back to normal. When he thought he felt his throat closing up, Virgil nearly took it as his cue to give in. But Patton… he was sitting _right there._ Adjusting his glasses and smiling a charismatic smile. For a moment, Virgil had all the encouragement he needed to go on. 

Turns out one moment was long enough for Virgil’s train of thought to rev back to life and leave his lips. One deep breath and a prayer for lasting composure later, all his thoughts came crashing through. “Look, I think I was wrong before. The meticulous thinking and crunching numbers, it’s not what makes me tired. It’s you guys.” He shook his head. “It _used_ to be you guys.”

“And don’t apologize, I know you’re going to.” The smirk he managed to give got a trio of smiles in return. Maybe he could make it through this after all. His grip on the table loosened. Just a bit. “It used to be completely exhausting to be around you guys. I was always on edge, always so high-strung, it took everything not to just break down. Nowhere felt safe, y’know?”

Of course they didn’t know. Every quality of theirs had always been celebrated, he knew that. Addressing that now would shatter his momentum, though. So he didn’t. He couldn’t let things fall apart now. “You used to feel like such a threat. I just wanted to help without being hated, but trying to do both was so _debilitating._ I couldn’t bring myself to risk ruining any progress you guys thought I’d made, so I found myself agonizing over everything I said and did, all while trying to do my job. I was basically torturing myself trying to be on your good sides.” Something reminiscent of a sob caught in Virgil’s throat. “That’s what made me tired. Not some game of chess.”

The anxious side let out a brittle breath of air. He almost felt better, having said all that. Except life wasn’t at all done with him. It was when he looked up and saw Patton’s glossy eyes and trembling frown, that his heart nearly fractured. Virgil’s head felt like cotton. What in the world was he thinking, how could he be so selfish to bring his emotional baggage to a card game? He should have just kept his mouth shut. But he didn’t, because that endless supply of nervous energy inside only kept his stupid self talking.

He could feel himself unraveling before he even started talking again. Unraveling like he would lavender earbuds in a panic attack. “But it’s not like that anymore! It’s really not. I feel safe, well, as safe as I can be for being the embodiment of anxiety. Being with you guys, it’s easy. It feels like routine, it’s normal. I don’t have to try and act different; I don’t worry about you guys hating me anymore. As cliché as it sounds, I can be myself around you.” He almost laughed. Maybe this was really what he needed. “And being myself? That’s the least tiring thing I can think of.”

A lifetime’s worth of internal conflict was now out in the open, and left a chorus of processing information in its wake. Patton collected himself with a shuddered breath and pushed aside his glasses to wipe away the bleariness that had since formed. Meanwhile Roman couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than bite his lip and slowly fidget with his sash.

Logan was good at hiding his feelings. Even so, that didn’t mean emotions didn’t sometimes slip through the cracks. He twirled a stray card around his fingers as relief started sneaking through his teeth. “I am... very glad you feel that way.” The joker that he held glinted against the light. “But I suppose that means continuing would be pointless. I am sorry for having wasted your time.”

Before even half a second could pass, Virgil was back in his chair, face flushed. “We can keep playing, actually. If that’s okay with you guys.” How long had all those thoughts been weighing down his chest? He’d have to deal with its emotional carnage later. But that’s exactly what it was- later. For now, he savored all the renewed smiles in the room. “I still need to win that aux cord, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of excited to write the next chapter! I know for a fact it's going to be hard because most of it will be internal monologue but even so, I am excited. I sincerely hope you are enjoying this story, and it would make my day for you to comment on this! You know the drill. With all that said, stay cool.  
> \- Kenna


	4. 3- Dark Side of Your Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 - In which distractions are the death of Virgil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, nice to see you came back for more. It's been a while! But here is chapter 4 for you, and it's a whopping 5.3k words. So much for chapter 1 being the longest. I definitely enjoyed writing this chapter, even though it took unbearably long. Thank you for coming back though, means a lot. Please enjoy!

It was a pair of lavender earbuds and five feet of velvet couch cushions that separated Roman and Virgil. Two hours ago the creative side found him cocooned in blankets amidst the early morning darkness. He didn’t bother asking why. Virgil’s phone lit up his face in flashes. They sat in simple, peaceful company while the day brightened up.

Pencils, scribbling on sketchbook paper. You see, there are many different kinds of quiet. There were awkward lulls in conversation, or psychologically unnerving silence, the kind you’d see in horror flicks. Sometimes, silence was really scary. Other times, silence was a mutual understanding. 

_Circling your block for half an hour, you said they cut your power, now it’s too hard to sleep._

Virgil yanked out an earbud. Even with Tumblr and Spotify combined, he could feel it- Roman’s eyes were on him. A snarky comment equipped itself subconsciously. “What are you looking at?” He huffed. No immediate answer. He almost asked again out of annoyance, but that was before he noticed the look on Roman’s face. It was pure, undiluted child-like wonder, there was no mistaking it. Virgil let his shoulders loosen. He just...hadn’t seen that look in a while. That’s all.

After setting his sketches and pencils aside, Roman shuffled closer. “How do you do it?” Whimsical curiosity, you could see it in his eyes.

The anxious side cocked his head. “Do what exactly?” Pop punk melodies continued playing in his other ear. Had Roman’s face always been this stupidly animated?

“Not die of _boredom!_ Especially without mwah to grace your presence, I simply couldn’t imagine.” Probably, yeah.

It was a good question, sometimes even he didn’t know. Virgil set his phone down on the couch and pulled his knees to his chest. “If you’re trying to ask how I stay busy overnight, it’s a lot of things.” A hum from the prince shamelessly urged him to continue. Something caught in Virgil’s throat. Why did he almost not want to answer?

It came up just short of feeling personal. “I guess just the regular stuff you do when you’re bored.” He could physically feel his brain degrading into that natural nervous rambling, but it’s all he really had to say. “Mostly look at my phone? I’m not sure, I’ve never really thought about it.” Running his mouth was such a bad habit, but Roman never seemed to mind that much. “Nothing all that interesting.” 

A roll of the eyes, plus a playful scoff. “Oh please, you can’t tell me that you spend eight whole hours staring at your _phone._ There has to be something, what about midnight snacks?” 

The intrigue caught him off guard. It didn't make sense. Wasn’t this whole ‘no sleep’ thing supposed to be an issue? Issues weren’t supposed to be interesting. Yet Roman sat there waiting. Virgil blinked back at him. “Not really. I try not to leave my room at night. I don’t want to wake you guys up- even though I know you probably won’t mind. But there’s never a need to, honestly.” 

By now, Roman had begun reaching for the anxious side’s phone. The boy was too busy spewing empty words to even notice until it was too late. The music died, killed by the metallic noise of earbuds being pulled out of the port. Rude…

“And if you’re wondering, I pretty much gave up on trying to sleep years ago- hey! What are you doing?” He was too slow to grab his phone back, Roman simply turned away and started absently typing into the search bar. And when Virgil fought to steal it back, the prince easily extended his arm way out of reach. Why did _Roman_ get to be tall and not him? Stupid side-diversity.

While the anxious side vied for his device, the creative one kept absently scrolling through songs. Soon enough bickering bubbled up between the two until the living room shook with dozens of ‘give it back!’s and ‘just wait!’s and ‘come on!’s, among other indistinguishable, squabble-y phrases.

 _Let’s get down to business~_ Violins erupted out of the speakers, getting drastically louder with every tap of the volume button. “To defeat,” Roman rose up, victoriously raising the phone high above them both. His stage voice was brightly shining through. “The Huns!” Gravelly and dramatic as always. Now that Virgil found himself staring up at a face of innocent excitement, he suddenly wasn’t as upset.

He pressed his thumb against the speaker, effectively muffling the audio for a moment. “And I know it’s a sex-ist line,” Still masterfully keeping the tune, of course. “But it’s still, a bop!” The way he melodramatically pulled a hand to his chest, looking oh so confident for coming up with that himself on the fly- It was just heartwarmingly absurd. 

Roman twirled up to his feet, swift and theatrical. _You’re the saddest bunch I’ve ever met, but you can bet before we’re through~_ “Mister, I’ll!” He held Virgil’s phone case to his mouth like a microphone, just like the superstar he thinks he is. “Make a man, out of you!”

For a moment, all Virgil could do was sit back and watch the show unfold. Eyebrows raised, arms folded, he was left admiring the creative side as he sang and danced around the living room like it was his job. (It kinda was.)

Before he knew it, the anxious side was yanked off the couch by a single hand. _You’re a spineless, pale, pathetic lot~_ The force sent him stumbling into the prince’s shoulder, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs “And you haven’t got a clue,” Somehow, _somehow_ , you could hear a smirk in his voice. Just a tad bit snide.

“I’m never gonna catch my breath!” Right on the beat, Roman shoved a finger into the anxious side’s chest. He wasn’t offering Virgil the next line, but demanding it. So of course, if only to vex the other side, Virgil said nothing. _Say goodbye to those who knew me~_ His silence earned him an aggressive smack on the shoulder, though. To Roman, Disney was no joking matter. 

A little more insistent this time, “This guy’s got him scared to death!”

If you asked Virgil, he most definitely did _not_ hunch in on himself and reluctantly mutter the following line. “Hope he doesn’t see right through me…” But if you asked Roman, he’d say otherwise. It was the only female lyric in the whole song, too. _Now I really wish that I knew how to swim~_

The music quickly melted into a new intense pace, and Roman let it sink into his skin. _Be a man~_ “We must be swift as a coursing river!” The prince’s eyes were glittering. It could have been a trick of the light, though.

Patton should have been here, because the living room was coated in the taste and smell of all the childhood confidence this song inspired. _Be a man~_ “With all the force of a great typhoon,” The way a few key changes could fabricate feelings, the concept was magical. _Be a man~_ “With all the strength of a raging fire!”

“Mysterious as the dark side of,” In one, unprecedented moment, Virgil was scooped up into Roman’s arms and recklessly slung over the prince’s shoulder. Around in circles the two spun, “The moon!” He sang, his voice rich and loud. The anxious side squealed and kicked his converse in the air, but he wasn’t complaining. Their rhythm broke apart into a fit of delighted giggles. One whirl brought Virgil’s head dangerously close to the TV set, but it was okay. It was the first good morning in a while.

Until it wasn’t. The song choked, “Just as I expected,” and left the room in silence once again. A sore and awkward one at that. Standing at the entrance of the hallway was Logan. How long had he been standing there? A shrewd tie adjustment, and reality came crashing back down. “What I just witnessed appears to prove my point exceedingly well. All of my recent observations have led me to the conclusion that being in our company actively keeps Virgil awake. So much so that our efforts thus far have been anything but worthwhile.” 

Virgil grit his teeth. With his face already up in flames, he wriggled out of the creative side’s arms and jerked himself away from the other two boys. His hood came over his head in an instant. It wasn’t fair, he thought. The way a blunt tone could completely ruin the moment, just like that.

The lack of response didn’t slow Logan down at all, “I suggest we take a more ‘hands-off’ approach. My research tells me that a technique referred to as ‘white noise’ is a commonly used method, and that the results are high-yielding. Perhaps this could be beneficial to us?” 

Who’s this _us_? It was him who apparently needed sleep, not them. It was him who was apparently missing out. Not them. A ‘team effort’ they called it, but Virgil never wanted to play in the first place.

They couldn’t just _forget_ about it for a second, could they? Everything was just sleep, sleep, sleep to them. Another unsuccessful night just _had_ to be rubbed in his face. He needed a break. But he didn’t want to say so, either. Why couldn’t Logan just read his mind? “So you want me to lay alone in my room and listen to some rainforest sounds. You do realize that’s what I do literally every night, right?” He didn’t bother trying to sound nice.

Without even skipping a beat, Logan had a reply ready. “The data doesn’t lie, Virgil. You’re likely missing a key component to the process. Besides, there’s no hurt in trying.” He smiled, seemingly satisfied with himself.

Maybe. Maybe not. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and said nothing more.

~ ~ ~

The faces of paper emo icons stared down at the three from their place on the walls. Sometimes their eyes would follow you, sometimes they wouldn’t. Depends on the day. 

Despite loathing everything about the room’s vibe, Patton claimed his presence was needed. For ‘emotional support’ he said, which only sort of made sense. The wheels and plastic of Virgil’s swivel chair creaked under the moral side’s weight. Apparently his wobbly spinning was ‘much-needed entertainment’. 

His attempts to lighten the mood were appreciated, albeit useless. While Logan spent a ridiculous amount of time fighting with cable cords, Virgil’s mind checked out. He felt an odd sort of comfort in the process of tying and untying his shoes over and over again. Anything just to stay in his own head, far away from everything going on around him. 

Eventually, the right cord met a wall socket. A gentle ring of blue light began to blink in the darkness. “Where would you like this device, Virgil?” It was a forgein object in Logan’s hands, held out like it might explode.

“Just put it over by the bookshelf.” His shoelaces were starting to wear thin. Why was he so...frustrated? He couldn’t pinpoint why or where all this annoyance and bitterness stemmed from exactly, but those questions were probably better suited for a 1am mental crisis anyway. “And call it an Alexa, will you?” 

Logan recoiled. His glasses shifted on his scrunched up nose. “This _is_ a white noise machine, is it not?”

A long pause. Another knot came undone. “I mean… it can do that, yeah.” Virgil shrunk in on himself, because there it was again; tension. Back and better than ever. It was naive of him to think he’d catch a break- good things just can’t last. He started winding his laces around his fingers, tight enough to turn them purple. 

Technology somehow seemed to have the upper hand on Logan. There were very few things that the logical side was behind on, and turns out the internet was one of them. While Logan took his sweet time settling the speaker on an empty shelf space, Virgil slid his phone out of his pocket. 

Logan was afraid that it’d shatter like glass. Virgil was afraid of another new failure.

He was already swiping through the settings when that adamant voice told him “Alright, the instruction manual stated that the device will only work when it has access to a… _bluetooth_ connection? I’m not entirely sure what that entails, but if you give me a few minutes I’m sure I can-” With one tap of a button, a pleasant noise immediately came spilling through the speakers. The ring of light turned blue, and a gentle voice entered the conversation. _Connected._

Virgil looked up. Maybe securing an internet connection wasn’t very confuting, but being spoon-fed suggestions was such a bruise to his ego. Showing off a little couldn’t hurt. He shut off his phone and tossed it aside. “There, done.”

Blank. The room went blank. Even his swivel chair stopped its whining to let Logan wonder where he went wrong, what he had missed. Meanwhile Virgil felt his patience cracking, and yanked another knot apart. 

The second Logan opened his mouth back up, Virgil broke. This wasn’t _fair._ He flung his bedsheets aside and rushed to his feet, letting his hair fall flat over his face. “Are we done?” The words left his mouth a little too sharply, but he didn’t need to be babied. Sooner or later they’d have to understand that, or Virgil might tear himself apart.

“I-I suppose-?”

“Great, you can leave now.” He wasn’t being too harsh. This was his room, this was his problem, and he had a right to say something. Even though it didn’t always seem like it, Virgil was allowed to make his own decisions...right?

Probably not- They’d never made that clear. It was way too late to retract what he’d said, though. A subtle pain started flaring up from where his nails were digging into his palms. “But thank you for helping me set this up. I should probably get ready for bed now.” He swished his hand in the direction of the door, and the other two hesitantly exited.

Except Logan hung back for a moment. He looked so lost, standing there behind the door frame. His glasses sat a little too low on his nose. “Virgil, it’s only seven. You still have time to-” That’s when Virgil slammed his door shut. There was another thud as the anxious side threw his back against the wood before he slowly sunk down to the floor. Virgil had a habit of pushing his family away. All he could do was hope he hadn’t pushed too hard this time.

~ ~ ~ 

Eleven: Weirdest hour of the night. Mostly because it was the hour he always promised he’d be ‘asleep’ by. Of course, he broke that promise every night, but it was mostly just to be polite. So he didn’t feel as bad. 

It’d been a while since he ever so nicely threw Patton and Logan out of his room, long enough for him to pull himself together and reconsider previous opinions. He’d convinced himself that he was wrong earlier, that white noise was something worth trying, that maybe he was missing a ‘key component’ after all. While that was  _ definitely _ the guilt talking, Virgil pretended not to notice. He was getting pretty good at that.

Because let’s face it, distracting yourself will always be easier than dealing with your issues. Instead, he simply thought of other things. Anything and everything, like how his constant squinting and night time eye strain didn’t give him headaches, and how that was a medical mystery. If reading through the reviews of every single one of Alexa’s white noise extensions could keep his mind off the issue, he’d happily start reading.

He pulled his weighted blanket over his head- he always started freezing if he wasn’t under something warm. His phone sat so close to his face, his breath just barely fogged up the screen. High-quality app icons stared back at him. Nothing looked good, but the further he scrolled, the weirder his options got. Who wanted to fall asleep to  _ sailing sounds,  _ whatever that even sounded like? He clicked to the next page. In hindsight, that was a mistake. Because the second he did, his phone was overtaken by a full-screen advertisement and cheery music that nearly gave him a heart attack. 

Okay, so it’s a well-accepted fact that mobile game ads were pretty much always...creepy, for lack of a better term. Their sound effects were unnerving and cheap, the animations were invariably janky, and half the time the gameplay itself was vaguer than vague. Except somehow, this one just wasn’t. In fact, it was actually just the start to another nightly spiral.

While the music may have scared him half to death- what sat on his screen wasn’t half bad. In the middle of a shiny blue background was a little tabby cat. A little to the left, a siamese. Above that, a calico, and the art style was just too adorable. Not quite chibi, but minimalistic, all with big round faces and brightly colored features. He unconsciously cracked a smile as hundreds of unique little kitties started flying across his screen.

Virgil sat up in bed and flung his blanket off. It was still pretty early in the night, and he still had plenty of time to settle down. He was just taking a detour of sorts, a cute mobile game wouldn’t be the end of the world. Besides, collecting binary coded cats would probably be more rewarding in the long term. The app downloaded too quick for him to change his mind anyway.

The mechanics seemed simple enough. It was another one of those ‘deliver and combine supplies to upgrade your base!’ kind of games. Plus a handful of mini-games to go along with it. Eventually he’d get sick of the waiting and grinding and waiting and grinding, but for now he was more than content sitting here and tapping for cats. The music was nice, but he had to turn it off after a while. He couldn’t stand songs on loop. It was a reminder of the time.

~ ~ ~

And then it was midnight. He still had some time. Surely cleaning his room was more important than trying to sleep, right? It wasn’t an excuse, he wasn’t running away, just… he was  _ preoccupied.  _ That’s it. Perfectly reasonable.

_ I’ll dedicate it to the fact that it’s so hard for you to dream, a million heartbeats all around you make it hard to sleep _

Virgil instantly tore his headphones off and watched them loudly bounce off his desk onto the floor; his whole body flinched at the noise it made on impact. The music was turned up so loud you could still faintly hear it from where it lay rejected on the ground. For a painfully long moment, all he could do was stand there, in a mild sort of shock at what he’d just done. Something about the lyrics… they just rubbed him the wrong way. He reached into his pocket for his phone and closed his Spotify. 

So he’d think of something else. Keeping himself busy was a skill he’d perfected a long time ago. If he just kept cleaning up his room, he’d forget about it. Easy as that. Organization was therapeutic; it was good for the mind and more important than falling asleep. If he told himself these things enough, maybe he’d actually start to believe it.

Alas, now he was simply left wondering why a stray sock of Patton’s was hiding in his journal drawer- and he knew it was Patton’s because of the stretched out patterns of unicorns on them. The moral side definitely had his quirks, but his journal drawer? Even that was a bit odd. 

Luckily not everything he stumbled across was as boringly weird as a sock. Behind a little more clutter was that fountain pen Roman had complained about losing. Sure, the nib was a little bent at the base, but he’d be happy to have it back. However, a decent sized pool of dried, week-old ink was now a permanent feature on his desk. At least it fit his aesthetic.

It didn’t even end there! Logan’s copy of  _ War and Peace  _ by Leo Tolstoy had somehow made its way onto his bookshelf. 

So… Logan loves to say that ‘workaholic behaviors are nothing but an anxious response to the fear of not finishing a goal in time’, but that couldn’t be right, because Virgil was doing the opposite. He was just using fancy words to avoid calling himself a procrastinator. He was just finding any and all work to do just because he could. That, and he was still only half-convinced that falling asleep was what he truly wanted. 

Well, lining his books up by the author wouldn’t do him any good- he never paid attention to who wrote what. Sorting them by title would probably be the most efficient, the name was the most important part of the story. Pretty hard to forget. Color coding them would be so satisfying though... maybe that was his best choice?

What  _ did  _ he want? He didn’t have to figure it out right now, it was only midnight. There was still plenty of time to piece together the answer. It could wait until he was done sorting his collection of novels.

~ ~ ~ 

What does a supernova feel like? At least, what would it do to his body? He’d never know unfortunately, which was pretty frustrating. Even a figment of imagination like him probably wouldn’t survive an interstellar nuke, so all he could do was wonder about it in the midst of another 1am crisis. Maybe he’d burn to a crisp, and his jacket would be the first to go. He'd never know!

Sure, you could  _ try  _ to imagine what it’d feel like. It’d be in vain though, because nothing would ever come close to the actual thing. Just like you don’t know how painful getting hit by a truck is until it happens to you. Then you have to multiply it by like... a trillion. And that wasn’t helpful literally at all, because humanity has become so numb to the concept of big numbers. Anyone on the street could tell you that the Milky Way is big, but they don’t truly stop to think about it. To make it all the way across our galaxy, light zooms across the universe for a whole Earth year, one hundred thousand times over. Don’t people understand how huge that is?

So he’d never know. Nobody would, not even the NASA scientists who could probably calculate the explosive force of a supernova in about an hour. No matter how many units and numbers they threw out there, it was useless. They’d never know what a supernova feels like. Besides, everything they observed out there was dead. That one mildly interesting planet a million light years away they love to gush about? It’s been dead a long, long time.

Why did they bother, if all their conclusions were millenia late and wildly inaccurate (there was  _ no  _ way they knew the exact size of a star so far away; Darn cocky astronomers)? More than likely, the clearest picture of Planet Keysmash No.72 was nothing more than a grey smudge in a screenshot. That means when it shows up in some space documentary, the 3-D model they make of it is a hypothesis at best.

While CGI animations of supernovas were admittedly awesome, they were all completely fake and painfully flawed. Every supernova ever recorded was pretty much just a spike on a line graph or blink in the sky. The colors and shapes they show on screen were either just what looked coolest or even chosen at random. Oh, how the truth hurts. 

Come to think of it, space documentaries show so much more flashy artificial videos and shots of narrators more than actual photos of space. Why show that phoney clip of a neutron star collision when you could showcase the first actual picture of a black hole? That’s so much cooler! 

What all of this said about education methods, the authenticity of creators, and the oblivious nature of society, Virgil did not know. All he knew was that the  existential depression was hitting extra hard tonight. 

His bedroom ceiling was not very interesting. He had to take down all the glow-in-the-dark stars because they’d faded so much and were starting to peel off the drywall. Yet he still found his brain wandering the cosmos every single night. Space was terrifying, especially to the personification of anxiety. Except, there was something comforting about how big and empty and otherwise scary the universe was. Interesting things were happening all the time out there. Stars explode, planets are born, galaxies get swallowed. It’s insane… and a lot more interesting than some embarrassing 6th grade memory.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It was 2am, and something just touched his hand. He may have been paranoia incarnate, but something  _ definitely _ just touched his hand. Immediately, he jerked away from the sensation and pressed himself against the corner of his bedroom wall.That’s just what he gets for foolishly hanging his arm over the edge. This was not an uncommon occurrence, but he’d never get used to it. It always took a couple dozen shaky breaths to fully calm down. In the mindscape, a monster existing under his bed was scarily possible.

He’d better check; Because if there was indeed a creature under there, those fight-or-flight reflexes would finally come in handy, maybe help him bash the thing’s skull in. That’d be a whole lot better (and more exciting) than continuing to lay in bed terrified- the suspense would make him sick. So he’d better check. With a little hum of worry, Virgil crawled to the end of the mattress. 

It was just like ripping a band-aid off. All he had to do was look, there’d probably be nothing there anyway! He was just being silly. So why did his brain keep picturing all the creepy faces that could be staring back at him? If only Logan were here to talk some sense into him, or Roman to stick a sword under his bed, or Patton to simply check for him, even though he himself was easily spooked. The speed his thoughts were going was starting to give him a headache. All he had to do was check. 

Surprise, surprise, when Virgil finally swung his head over the edge, he was met with: Nothing! Well not  _ nothing, _ a few miscellaneous, forgotten gems were there on the floor. That was pretty cool.

The first thing that caught his eye was a colorful bundle of construction paper that stood out against the darkness. Before he could give himself a head rush, Virgil reached far down and dragged the scrap out from the depths. Doing so revealed it to be that poorly cut out hand turkey Patton gave him last Thanksgiving. The whole thing was slightly crinkled and frayed, but ultimately intact. There were still some happy tear stains on it. Seeing it made him smile, but then again, every memory of that day did. Now Virgil couldn’t help but wonder what else was down there. Then his hands were suddenly exploring, scouring the underside of his bed for something else to hold onto. Something to reminisce upon.

The next thing he pulled out was his old hoodie. It was visibly faded, grey from a lack of use and light exposure. He didn’t even know why he _kept_ it, when all it held were painful memories of the past. Yet here it was. Maybe he should wash it. Maybe it was better off in the trash. Maybe shoving it back under and pretending that he never saw it would be best.

While debating his options, Virgil managed to find one last treasure that he’d left in the pocket. A shark tooth keychain, the one Thomas bought for him on his trip to that aquarium in Boston. While everything else under his bed had been withered by neglect, this one hadn’t changed a bit. Brushing his thumb over the bone still gave him chills. There were probably tons more stuff for him to find under there, but he figured it’d be best to stop here.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

He was out of time. The clock read 3:26am, and he was completely out of time. His tower of cards fluttered apart again. 

It was just another night spent alone in his room, but it didn’t feel like one. He’d been so hypersensitive for every single second of it, so painfully aware of the passing time. Not at all like usual. Cleaning, gaming, finding, those were all just activities he did overnight. Emphasis on ‘were’, because now he could see what they really were. Excuses. They weren’t fun, domestic pastimes- they were all just his own excuses to forget how much of a failure he was. 

Part of him wanted to break down and cry- Because he didn’t even make an  _ attempt, _ he actively  _ chose  _ to keep postposing and procrastinating until it was three in the morning. Way too late for him to sleep. But honestly? He was doomed the second he downloaded that app. Inner turmoil became a tidal wave, knocking at his bedroom door and slipping through the cracks.

Virgil fiddled with the queen of spades as the youtube tutorial continued softly in the background. Regret and guilt pooled at his feet, and it was getting harder to ignore. Visions of his family’s disappointed faces made his head swim so much it hurt. So vivid it scared him.

They were getting so much harder to ignore, but that doesn’t mean he stopped trying. Nope. Instead, he started over. After quickly fixing up the foundation, Virgil got back to work at building up a house of cardstock. His hands were naturally shaky, so constructing every mini tower took a little longer than it really should have, but he always made it a little further than the time before. At least he could say that progress was being made. 

For some reason, Virgil thought towering cards would be easy. It was not. Gravity was stubborn and finicky and refused to keep the cards upright. Then when he eventually got them standing up on their own, his hip bumped the desk, or he let out too big of a sigh and whoops! There goes all his progress, twirling onto the floor like confetti. Card stacking requires patience and precision (according to Wikihow). Virgil had neither of those. This wasn’t very fun. 

There was this really cool video from a few days ago about ‘the incredible sport of cup stacking’ which seemed way more awesome. You could be clumsier with cups, and a whole lot faster. Maybe you couldn’t build medieval castles out of cups, but hey. You can’t win them all. As much as he wanted to ditch cards for cups, he couldn’t. It was way too noisy. 

A twitter notification made his phone vibrate, and with the awkward angle it was sitting at, the device slipped and slammed onto the tabletop. Virgil watched as cards from every suit fell into disarray. Watch his hope and motivation sink around him in shambles. 

He chose this. Every opportunity he had to close his eyes and try, he passed up. It was his fault he was feeling this way. Virgil created the tidal wave outside his door, he tore up his chance at redemption, and he deserved every heartache he was giving himself. Yet he kept doing it. He never broke the habit.

Because believe it or not, falling asleep was not the goal, no matter how much he wished it was. And he really wished it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it through the chapter! This is hands down my favorite so far, so I hope you liked it as well. Let me know what you think in the comments! And rest assured, this fic will be finished. I can't tell you when, but it WILL be finished. Hope to see you back. Stay cool  
> ~ Kenna


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